


Paralyzed with Deer (as in, fear)

by Otterly



Series: deer/tiger idiots [9]
Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:30:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25240144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otterly/pseuds/Otterly
Summary: Jamie gets up in the middle of the night for water.
Series: deer/tiger idiots [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1094721
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	Paralyzed with Deer (as in, fear)

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING
> 
> Wrote this in the early morning while drinking so this might not be up to par with my usual quality of writing!
> 
> Just a fun little one-off, not too long. 
> 
> Please enjoy responsibly <3

When he gets home, Cameron smells like fritos and sweat. Not the worst combination of smells I’ve had from him by far. It’s...like, kind of good, actually. But don’t tell him that. I think he knows anyway, though, from the way that he leers at me when I hug him when he returns home. I’ve been lonely all day, baking brownies in his kitchen while he’s been taking a bio final.

I could have gone with him and waited at school, of course, but then I wouldn’t have been able to surprise him with brownies.

Yes, they’re laced with a _ton_ of cat nip, and yes, he gets all cute when they hit. Which doesn’t take long. About fifteen minutes. Yes, I timed it.

It’s not that long before we’re cuddled up in his room watching Crazy Rich Kitties again. He’s barely awake for it, poor guy. I guess I should’ve given some context: Cammie’s been the biggest ball of stress in the world for the past two weeks, studying for the test he just had. Having a cat nip brownie and cuddling with his boyfriend must feel like getting his soul’s belly rubbed after all of that.

I had finals too, but, you know, I don’t really care to get anything more than a B. Not like I can afford tuition at ZU, anyway.

Anyway! We watch a movie. We cuddle. We wake up for dinner, greet Alex as she comes back after a long day at work, and then I call my dad and, well, we’re asleep in Cameron’s bed. And that’s where things get spicy.

* * *

We fall asleep holding hooves (Paws? Hooves?), and when I wake up in the middle of the night, we’re still holding paws. Scandalous.

I check my phone. It’s two-oh-seven. Just about the time that my throat usually dries up because it hates me and it forces me awake. I’m gonna have to go downstairs and get some water. In the dark.

See, this isn’t a problem for the other two residents of this house. Cameron and Alex can see in the dark, no problem. They’re tigers, right? But I’m a deer. And even though deer can see decently at night (better than some other mammals), our vision’s still pretty shitty in the middle of the early morning in a house with actually zero light because no one else but me needs it.

It’s times like these when I wish I was a sheep. Or a bunny. Or _any other prey mammal or mammal in general._ You know why? It’s because they have pleasure of being able to use phone flashlights all willy nilly whenever the hell they want.

I can’t. I get all...dazed. You know the old adage. Deer in the Headlights, you know? Cameron calls it ‘deer-drunk’, and he makes fun of me when it happens. I barely need to think about it. It barely interferes with my life.

Until now.

I sigh. Cameron shifts, and the arm that he has draped over the bottom of my neck pulls me a little closer to his chest, so I close my eyes. I’d be a total idiot to not savor this moment.

My tiger is striped and orange and warm and toasty. He’s up and down and everything I could ever want. He’s a warm blanket in the middle of a stone room without AC. He’s an A+ on the powerpoint I spent three sleepless hours on the night before. And right now, he’s getting in the way of me and a fresh drink of cold water.

Damn it all to heck.

Slipping away from my boyfriend is torture, but I manage to do it, despite the near forty pound difference between our bodies. Dumb, dense felines. I should really stop with the surprise brownies, huh?

I exit Cameron’s room, which lies at the end of the hall, and I start walking to the end.

I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I’m not even sure what I’m scared of, you know? There are two tigers like, a few feet away from me who love me and would never ever let me get hurt on their property, so home invasion is out. Ghosts?

Jeepers. Do I even believe in ghosts?

I really wish I did. I walk past the two guest bedrooms-turned-storage closets, the bathroom, and then get to the master bedroom, where Alex is snoring louder than a geriatric camel after a thirty kilometer sprint. After her door is the stairs. I’d be worried about falling down if I haven’t walked up and down them a million times.

That brings me to the main floor, and then I start wondering why I’m thinking so hard about where I am in the house. Probably so I know what exaclty to tell Cameron when something spooky comes and gets me.

My tail twitches, and I stop dead in my tracks. My ears twitch. For a long moment, I can hear everything around me. The snoring upstairs. My own breathing. The general noises of the house: the dishwasher and the ice machine in the fridge and, downstairs, the washing machine. But I can also hear the lack of noise. The silence is deafening.

Nothing’s here.

Getting to the kitchen is as easy as breathing from that point on. From there I can drink some water and then fill up a hydroflask and take it with me upstairs. So I do that. Fill the hydroflask, I mean. I get it from the bottle cabinet. Then when I go to walk back I see something in the corner of my eye.

A mammal. Tall. Antlers. I freeze for a split-second, but there’s a boiling in my blood that comes directly after. Another buck? In _my_ home?

I feel my eyes grow wide. I snort and turn towards the figure.

It’s a fucking _coat rack._ Geez.

I walk back in shame. Like I should.

Why is it that going back the way you came is always so much faster than getting there in the first place? You’d think that it would just be twice as boring because you’ve seen everything already. Or maybe my brain’s all calmed down and zone-y out-y for that exact reason? No surprises? The best time to rob someone, then, would be on their way home after work or school or whatever.

My mind is really just, not smart, huh?

I walk to Cameron’s room, taking care to not step on the floor too hard.

And then he’s not there.

I want to reiterate that I have to pass the two guest bedrooms and the bathroom on my way to Cameron’s room, and none of those three sounded like there was anything moving. I also want to say that Cameron doesn’t like to use the washroom without the light on. Don’t ask me why. I don’t know why.

So, he’s gone. There’s a Cameron-shaped indentation in his bed where he’s supposed to be sleeping. He’s also nowhere to be seen.

He’s _also_ , if you weren’t really paying attention, a _tiger._ And they have the worst senses of practical humor.

He’s definitely stalking me as I stand in front of his bed, wondering where he is. He’s definitely going to be there when I turn around, and I’m going to scream and he’s going to laugh and hug me and cover my mouth so I don’t make too much noise. Then we’ll go back to bed. That’s _definitely_ going to happen.

I turn around. What do you know? It doesn’t happen.

I go over my options in my head: play along or go to sleep.

My thirst has been adequately parched, so that’s not really going to keep me awake. The second option is definitely viable.

On the other hoof, Cameron’s clearly feeling playful. This would make him happy. Even if it comes at the cost of a heart palpitation or two.

I turn around, still not hearing any movement whatsoever, and I leave the room. The hallway seems just a little more ominous now. Who knows where Cameron’s going to strike? I’ll tell you something—I don’t.

He leaves me alone, betraying his presence to no one until I get to the main floor and turn the corner, once again heading for the kitchen. That’s when I hear footsteps.

They come down the stairs, making them creak in the creepiest way possible. They footsteps step off of the stairs and they come towards me.

Towards me.

My heart races. It shouldn’t, though, should it? It’s just Cameron.

It’s just Cameron, right? It has to be. He’s gone, and—

They get closer to the corner. They’re about to turn.

My mouth opens involuntarily. I clamp my hooves over it.

No, no, stupid _stupid stupid_ what if it’s something else?!

But the footsteps stop, just before the corner. I look at the ground in futility: I can’t see any shadows at this time of morning.

“Cammie?” I whisper, then immediately regret it. I’ve given my position away if it isn’t him.

No, it’s him.

No, what if it’s not?

I _hate_ the dark.

No, you know what? There’s only one way to find out and that’s to stop being a stupid skinny little deer and walk up to the corner and _turn—_

No one’s there. No one’s between me and the foot of the staircase.

Why.

No way that someone just ran up the stairs in the amount of time it took for me to walk back. I refuse to believe that.

....

A PAW’S TOUCHING ME ON THE SHOULDER I—

Cameron lets out a yelp when I spin around and my fist meets his jaw in what I realize after the fact is a perfectly executed right hook.

My boyfriend drops to the ground, ending up flat on his back.

Oh my god. Please God no. _Did I just murder him?_

I drop to the ground so hard that my knees quiver, but I don’t think about that because my _boyfriend_ is on the ground not breathing holy shit he’s not breathing I killed him he’s dead and nope nevermind.

He lets out a weird hybrid of a groan and a snore.

My phone. My phone! I open my phone—

It’s a full minute later that I realize I’ve just been staring dead at my phone. Stupid bright lights. I zoogle the best way to treat a person that you just knocked out. Apparently lifting his legs up would be bad, so I just push him onto his side and I sit by him, cross legged.

After a minute he comes to, blinking his eyes slowly. “...Jamie?”

“Kitten,” I choke, tears forming a nice layer over my eyeballs. “I-I’m sorry. I knocked you out.”

“Wait, really?”

He reaches for me, and I help him get seated so I can turn and throw myself into his lap.

“Yeah,” I say. “Please don’t break up with me.”

“That’s—” He pauses. “That’s awesome. I forgive you.”

“Oh thank god.”

“Hey. Don’t cry.” His fingers stroke my cheek before dabbing at the corner of my eyes.

I sniffle. “I’m not!”

“It’s my fault. Shouldn’t have startled you so bad. At least I know I don’t have to be scared of you walking down dark roads by yourself.”

“Why would I walk down a dark road by myself?”

“You’re stupid.”

 _“You’re_ stupid,” I shoot back. “I love you. I’m really sorry for punching you.”

“Hush. Love you too,” he says, fingers rubbing the base of my antler. “We’re up and awake. Wanna get some food?”

“Where?”

“Bug Burga?”

“I can live with that as long as their corn on the cob isn’t sold out.”

“Great,” he says, helping me get out of his lap so I can stand and help _him_ up.

He throws his arms around me, and I close my eyes. How can I be scared of anything when I have this?


End file.
